Son Of The Wolf
by Promm
Summary: Everyone has secrets. Some worse than others. Bellatrix wasn't very careful with hers. At least not after Sirius broke out of Azkaban.  Canon - Everything after the first chapter will be set during OOTP onwards. Unfortunately I do not own Harry Potter.


_**9 November, 1981...**_

He had never been a particularly skilled wizard. He was usually found hiding in the shadows of greater witches and wizards. His only real skill was his ability to run away, despite his overlarge form. This was not, however, his only form. As the mediocre wizard he was, his name was Peter Pettigrew. Amongst his friends, he was simply known as Wormtail, the rat. Although it was not known at the time, this form would prove quite fitting with his human form in later life. Peter Pettigrew, the man who ratted out his close friends, the Potters, and framed another of his friends for the crime to boot. There was certainly no denying that Peter Pettigrew was a rat.

Sirius Black, the last living descendant of the Black family, was a handsome man. Often to be found joking or scheming, this loyal lad had always seen the funny side to everything. And why shouldn't he, he was an extraordinary wizard, he had wonderful friends and of course, was exceedingly wealthy. Why, he even had a new family in his equally hilarious and extraordinary best friend, James Potter. Indeed, James Potter was no one of consequence. He was a gifted wizard, true, but he and his family were in fact, remarkably ordinary. James' son, Harry, Sirius' godson, was a mere boy of one, still learning how to fly his first broomstick, and Lily, also very gifted in the art of magic, was still just another witch in the world of wizardry. But times change.

Quite swiftly it seems, for it was just a few hours after the Potter's housewarming party that an unexpected guest arrived with bad news. Albus Dumbledore had never been known to break news lightly, so when the Potter's were told the most powerful dark wizard in over a millennium had plans of dropping by, time was of the essence. Although charms are hard to break, people are not, and Peter Pettigrew wasn't a very sturdy person in the first place. When the time came for the Potter's secret keeper to be chosen, Sirius was the first choice, but it was at his request that Peter be the secret keeper, while people be told it was Sirius. This, of course, provided Pettigrew with the perfect cover. Sirius would have many years to debate on whether or not it was his fault the Potter's died that night. Or, to be more precise, ten days ago, the day his friend turned him into a wanted criminal.

The past ten days had been a blur in the mind of Sirius Black. On the run from the law, eating scraps, getting nettles in his tail, the list goes on. Being a big, black wolf half the time isn't all sunshine and daisies. Every time he thought of Peter Pettigrew, he saw red, or perhaps it was just that the area around his eyes were so puffed up. Wolves can cry too, and this wolf had reason enough. But as he turned a corner, he pushed all this from his mind. He could think about James and Lily later, he told himself, he had work to do now. Near the end of the street, a small man with a hunched back was subtly trying to set up charms around his house. Unfortunately for Peter, those charms weren't going to work while he was outside, which he was.

"_Wormtail! You'll pay for what you've done!_" Peter Pettigrew's heart stopped. Few people alive knew what he had done, and only one of them cared. He spun on the spot, only to be propelled backwards, dropping his wand in the process. As he looked up, he saw the gaunt figure of Sirius Black, and he was mad.

"Sirius!" They were surrounded by muggles. Sirius already looked insane enough without holding a tiny piece of wood threateningly in his hand. Peter was already at the advantage on that front. All he needed was his wand, and he could destroy Sirius. Not in a duel, he was never as good as Sirius, but as long as he could hold until the Aurors got here, he could make it out of this. He began to inch toward his wand, an act unnoticed by a distraught and angered Sirius. Wormtail raised his voice so the muggles could hear him. "Come to finish me off too, have you? What's next, are you gonna kill Moony off as well?" He tried to make it sound angry and defiant. His words put Sirius off his guard.

"_You know exactly why I'm here, Wormtail! The lies stop here! Lily and James, Wormtail! I want the truth!_" His anger was a tornado inside him. Magic was rolling off him in waves, sparks of energy sizzled in the air. And still, he didn't notice how close Wormtail was getting to his wand.

"You want to know the truth? I think you already know the truth, but are too stubborn to take it in! Maybe the years in Azkaban will help you accept it!" And with that, he dove for his wand.

Sirius Black now had tears in his eyes. Whether they were tears of sadness or tears of anger, he did not know. What he did know, is that in the time it had taken him to wipe his eyes and blink away the tears, Wormtail had gone from kneeling on the ground, wandless, to standing, with a wand in his hand. The odd thing was that the wand wasn't pointed at Sirius, but at the muggles in their immediate vicinity.

"_Reducto!_" It was then that Sirius understood Wormtail's plan. This was now the second time he was framing him, and he wouldn't get away with it. Unfortunately for him, his body chose this moment to lose function. He just stood there stupidly as Wormtail cut off one of his fingers, transformed and scurried away, leaving him in the middle of the carnage. It was this that sent him over the edge.

The Auror's had never had to an easier capture. He didn't come quietly, but he certainly didn't put up a fight as they carted him off. The infamous Sirius Black laughed himself to insanity all the way to Azkaban.

_**12 September, 1982...**_

The first night was always the worst. It showed who were brave and who were weak. Of course, in a place like Azkaban, everybody's weak. It was during his first week that he had out he wasn't the only Black in the joint. Heck, he wasn't even the only Black in his block. It was rumoured that just a few cells away from the notorious mass murderer Sirius Black, occupant of cell B-13, there was another Black, far more sadistic. Belatrix Lestrange: cell B-09. Naturally, Sirius knew of his cousin, but he had never met her, not until the one hour each day they were given to mingle. Perhaps mingle isn't the right word to use, more like huddle and hide from the dementors. It was then that he discovered she was much saner in prison than in the real world, which made him wonder just how nuts she was out there.

It was also in his first week that he realised just how damaged Belatrix was. An abusive husband who forced her to join him and his dark lord, a dark lord who was abusive tenfold and not to mention the Black family, who weren't exactly muggle sympathisers, it's no wonder she wasn't all there. His short-lived spell of insanity was nothing on her, and yet she was quite regal about it, she had a finesse about it. Sirius had to get his head around that one. How could you possibly be composed about being out of your mind? As weeks turned into months, Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange spent more and more time together, or as much time as they could, being locked up the remaining twenty-three hours of the day. They grew closer than cousins, closer than family. In the wizarding world, it was not unheard of for cousins to marry. Her husband was a brawny man, the kind of person you would expect to speak in grunts, went mad in his first fortnight. He became violent. He wasn't allowed his hour a day anymore. When Bellatrix couldn't see him anymore, she turned to Sirius. They had only been _together_ a few weeks when the dementors began to take a special interest in Bellatrix. It was as though they thought she had twice the life force of any other prisoners. Then they found out she did. It was the first time in Azkaban's history that a child would be born. And here they were, standing on one side of the glass. Cornelius Fudge stood on the other.

"Upon the child's birth, you are to hand him to the dementors so…"

"_The dementors! Are you insane? I will not hand over my child to those oversized bats!_" Despite the situation, Sirius smirked. Bella's outburst had reminded him of another oversized bat, not to mention the irony of her calling someone insane. The Minister for Magic, however, did not find Bellatrix Lestrange's outburst amusing at all.

"Yes, you will! It's your own fault you're having this child. You will hand up the child to the dementors for them to give to the ministry. Besides, I don't really think you have any other options. What are you going to do, hide him somewhere on the isle?" Sirius looked up sharply. From that moment on, Bellatrix was uncharacteristically submissive. In the following months, Sirius had a monkey on his back.

_**26 May, 1983…**_

The dementors at Azkaban were overjoyed. Soon there would be a new soul to reap. The prisoner who would have the child had told the Ministry that she had miscarried in the hopes of keeping him. This had turned out better than they could have hoped. Now there would be no repercussions from the Ministry. Those idiots.

Bellatrix Lestrange, self-proclaimed murderer and Death Eater, was now in a predicament she had never thought a possibility. Sitting in a dark, dank cell in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors, carrying, of all things, the child of Sirius Black. It just had to be him. It just had to be her blood traitor cousin. Friend of werewolves and mudbloods. And yet, she had felt a great connection to him over the past months. She hadn't seen her husband since the beginning and out of the black came her knight in prison rags.

Despite her situation, she had a hope that kept even the dementors at bay. Four days prior, an auror-in-training named Dawlish had come to visit one of the prisoners on her block. He didn't see the hand reach out from cell B-09, nor did he feel his wand slide from his back pocket. Dawlish was not, however, the only wizard Bellatrix Lestrange stole from that day. The wand of an auror was marked off the to-do list. The magic of a wizard was yet to be acquired.

Like Dawlish, Sirius Black didn't see the wand, nor hear the incantation, nor feel the flutter of the spell upon him as the old cut on his arm reopened, bled, then resealed itself. What he did feel was an overwhelming sense of hope. He didn't know where it came from but he no longer felt the need to know what would happen to his unborn child. In fact, he didn't even know he had a child. All he knew was that one moment he had known something life changing and the next he had forgotten it, and Bellatrix Lestrange left him sitting in the dirty stone triangle at the centre of Azkaban. And though it pained her deeply, she knew she would not speak to him again.

She knew it was tonight, she didn't know how she knew, but she did. At 12:01, May 27, 1983, Bellatrix Lestrange gave an ear splitting scream, only to be joined seconds later by another, equally blood curdling scream. Mere seconds after that there was a deafening bang as the iron bars caging cell B-09 exploded. She knew she wouldn't get far, she knew she couldn't escape, but she wasn't the only one in this prison brake. She bolted along corridor after corridor deflecting dementors and stunning guards. Finally she made it to ground level, past the dragon, and onto the rocky shoals of what could loosely be called a beach. Her newborn began to cry as the icy wind blasted them from all directions. She hadn't even had time to look into the child's eyes. Soon her feet were splashing through the shallows.

Finally, she stopped and turned around. As soon as she had done so, she immediately wished she hadn't. The army of dementors gliding toward her was getting too close. She had to move fast. As she laid her child on the ground, she looked at him for the first time. _Him_. She, Bellatrix Lestrange, had produced a beautiful baby boy. As he watched her with those penetrating dark eyes, Bellatrix had to force herself to look away. She conjured a knife and braced herself. Slicing a deep gash up her forearm, she added her blood to the vial containing Sirius' blood.

"I'm so sorry for this." Bellatrix made a neat cut on the child's left forearm, allowing it to bleed freely into the vial. Upon seeing his hurt gaze, she felt a great sense of guilt. Just minutes after her son's birth, she had already turned him against her. Looking around, she saw the dementors getting closer.

_Just a few more minutes... all I need is a few more minutes..._

Taking the vial and holding it to her son's lips, Bellatrix prayed her son wouldn't enjoy his first meal too much.

"Please don't become a vampire. It's already bed enough your father is a blood traitor," she muttered. He just looked up at her and giggled. Again looking into his young orbs, Bellatrix felt captivated. When she spoke, it felt like it was another speaking for her, someone who knew exactly what to say.

"Corvus Hydra Lestrange, stay safe and grow up to be the powerful wizard I know you are. I love you." And with that she cast an emerald green aura around her son, levitating him into the air. Having used up the last of her remaining power, Bellatrix Lestrange slumped to the ground just as the dementors swooped in on her. Then there was Corvus. No more than ten minutes old, he had already had his arm sliced up, been forced to drink blood, been encased in a glowing emerald ball and been surrounded by dementors. Yet they couldn't touch him. The odd sphere of shear will-power was enough to keep the dementors away. Finally, somewhere in the bowels of Azkaban, on block B, Sirius Black continued to mull over the odd screams he had heard from cell B-09. The blur of grey that was the dirt-covered Bellatrix had been oddly contrasted by a blur of clean white as she bolted past his cell. Intriguing.

And somewhere in the middle of the Northern Sea, on an inescapable fortress of an island, the baby named Corvus vanished, emerald ball and all.


End file.
